


Of Hearts and Sleeves

by NervousAsexual



Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Arcade Gannon is a softie who deserves better, Crucifixion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Mild Gore, The Courier is a Prick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: One time Arcade fell in love with a courier and that was enough to get him sold as a slave.
Relationships: Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Of Hearts and Sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober prompt #12--broken trust

One time back in the NCR Arcade fell in love with a bartender and that was enough to end their relationship.

"That's your problem, Gannon," Ian (his name was Ian) had yelled. "You always gotta wear your heart on your sleeve. Fuck off. I ain't getting attached."

As much as he hated to admit it (and as vehemently as he'd denied it when he was drinking himself blank during the following days) Ian was right. Arcade was a sucker for any cute guy who didn't shoot him on sight, and it made him soft.

Another time Arcade fell in love with a courier and that was enough to get him sold as a slave.

That brought him to tonight. Lying on a yao guai skin at the foot of Caesar's bed, struggling to swallow with the collar locked tight around his throat, arms growing stiff from being tied behind his back. Kicking himself for ever leaving the old Mormon fort. As boring and hopeless as the research he'd done was, at least it wasn't brain surgery on the wasteland's most viscious tyrant.

Above him Caesar shifted in his sleep and a quiet moan broke the silence. He was coming back around from the sedative.

Arcade very, very much hoped that he was in pain.

He never claimed to be a good doctor. What he should have done, what he really wanted to do, was kill the guy. It would have been so easy, right there with Caesar's skull opened up. All he would have had to do was jam the scalpel in and wiggle it. Instant lobotomy. Sure, then the Legion would have killed him, but honestly? It came down to a life of slavery watching Caesar and the courier destroy everything between here and the mountains, or a quick if brutal end spent knowing that the Legion would fall apart without Caesar. The choice was pretty easy. The Legion must have known how easy it would have been, and that was why they brought in the kid.

He didn't even like kids, thought they were loud and busy and a lot of work. They were somebody else's problem most of the time, and that was the way he liked it. But Vulpes Inculcata, Caesar's favorite frumentarii, took him aside and explained that if he acted on any degenerate impulses during the surgery they would bring in a doctor of their own (here he gestured toward a small, narrow-faced man whose uniform was stained with blood belonging to everyone but himself) and do a little surgery on the kid.

"I don't believe that man's ever had medical training," Arcade told him, but Vulpes didn't laugh.

So he did it. He removed the tumor, closed up the skull, and kept his eyes off the kid when they dragged her away. He didn't know what had happened to her after that. Part of him thought, maybe what they would have done to the kid wasn't worse than what a lifetime spent as a Legion slave would bring. Maybe--probably--obviously their two lives were a more than fair trade for the Mojave. But there was no point dwelling on it. He'd made his decision and there was no going back.

It was starting to look like the only way forward was through.

Pins and needles shot through his legs as he pushed himself closer to the bed and braced his shoulder against it, struggling to right himself. The carpet burned his bare legs but he held on. After a few minutes of sliding he managed to get his knees under him and forced himself upright so sharply that his head connected with the table behind him.

"Fuck!"

Outside of the tent door something moved. Guards. His best course of action would have been to lay back down, pretend it was nothing, bide his time for a while longer. But he found that he couldn't. He'd never been the patient sort--the courier's stealthy approach to combat felt like taking problems at half-speed and then wondering why he had an ulcer. No, he was upright and it'd been so hard to get to this point that he couldn't let it go to waste.

He looked around for something to free his hands with but there was nothing. Of course there was nothing. It would be too much to ask for one thing to go right.

Fine. Caesar had spent years treating people as animals. If that was what he wanted, that was what he'd get.

He could hear the guards now, arguing. Wouldn't be long before they came in and killed him. If only the Followers had taught him how to get out of this situation.

Ah, well. At least they had taught him two useful things: the practice of medicine, and the value of proper dental hygene.

Arcade Gannon swallowed hard, bared his teeth, and tore out Caesar's throat.

Shot.

Stabbed.

Crucified.

One time Arcade Gannon fell in love with a courier.

The longest day of his life he hung on a crucifix inside the walls of the Legion camp, the Mohave sun beating down, body slowly--mercifully--starting to go numb.

If there was one bright spot to the agonizing slowness of a death on a crucifixion, he at least got to be there as the Legion started to fall apart around him. The shouting and occasional gunshots from Caesar's tent were at least a little satisfying. Watching the merchants at the waterfront grow restless, confused, and eventually panicked as word spread. This much he assumed, at least, since Vulpes Inculcata had broken his glasses and ground the pieces into his eyes, but even imaginary schadenfreude was better than nothing.

There was one more smug victory to be taken from his, he thought, head too heavy now to hold. Without Caesar they couldn't even crucify someone right. They could have made him suffer for days up here, and instead they ran a machete through his side. Again, it didn't exactly make up for everything that had happened, but it might have, if he could stop to think about it instead of catching glimpses through the choking panic and pain.

At the end of the longest day, when the desert that had been so unbearably hot was now deathly cold, the voices came for him.

He had no idea what was happening at first. All he knew was that suddenly the feeling was rushing back into his arms and this was not a good thing because at least before he hadn't hurt like this. He fell, not far but heavily, into something large and warm and solid, and breathing heavily.

Now what, he wondered irritably, just before he finally lost consciousness.

Someone was cooking. Smelled like... macaroni and cheese?

Arcade opened his eyes, for all the good it did him. He felt around underneath him. Some kind of fabric. A mattress? A couch? He wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure why it was suddenly possible for him to move. As his eyes adjusted he became aware of a light just off to one side (a door? a window?), which made him unsure how it was suddenly possible to see even a little bit.

It was all very strange. He felt like he'd just been crucified, yes, but better than he should have. Less grimy. A quick touch to his face confirmed that someone had definitely washed the layers of blood--his own and Caesar's--from him. His clothes were clean, and so was the blanket covering him.

Gingerly he touched his eyelids. No blood. No scars. No glass. Somebody had put a lot of time and a lot of stimpacks into helping him.

He was trying to decide if it was hunger he was feeling or just nausea when a figure appeared in the door and the room was bathed in light. His head felt like it was splitting apart at the temples. He yanked the blanket up over his head.

"Oh my gosh!" The lights were quickly dialed down. "Sorry about that. I didn't know you were awake. Or, you know. Not blind."

"I'm still sleeping, if anyone cares.

The voices sounded familiar. In fact, so did some of the ambient noise--the creaking of machinery, the crackle of the radio, the distant jaunty music. He pulled the blanket back a little and squinted into the darkness. "Veronica?"

"Arcade," she said amiably.

"Is this the... are we in the Lucky 38? How are we in the Lucky 38?"

"Elevators." She wavered her voice and drew her hands in a wide arc. "The stairs of tomorrow."

Definitely Veronica.

"Lily brought you." Veronica moved across the room and took a seat on the bed. "She's the stealthiest and also the biggest. Which is really convenient, now that I think of it. Anyway, she hauled you over the river and met up with me and Raul and we booked it." She nodded at the lump of blankets on the other bed. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He struggled to sit up.

"No problem. You'd do the same for me... I hope. How's the eyes?"

"Sore." But not full of glass. A definite improvement.

"We were gonna draw straws to see who would have to clean up, but then we figured that gave you equal odds of getting me or Cass, and she doesn't exactly have the steadiest hands."

He rested his head back against the couch and sighed deeply. He never would have guessed...

"How'd you get caught by the Legion, anyway? Six didn't say."

His eyes snapped open.

"Said he saw you from the dam with those binoculars of his, but...

He lifted his head up. His neck was already stiff and sore but now the hairs on the back of it were standing on end. "Is he here."

"Six? Yeah. He's making dinner right now. Hey," she hollered out into the hall. "Six!"

Arcade's chest hurt and not just from the buckshot the Legion had put in it.

"He's probably in the middle of very important beef wellington business. Are you doing okay? You look... worse."

He felt like he'd been kicked upside the head by a brahmin. The courier was the one who sold him to the Legion, wasn't he? Baking on a cross all day didn't do great things to his brain but he was sure that was how it had played out. Why would someone who sold him send people out to...

"Aw, good morning, pumpkin."

He barely recognized that it was Lily who appeared in the doorway. None of it made any sense. What was he missing?

"Are you feeling better after your nap?" She came over to the couch and patted him on the head. "You shouldn't play with those terrible kids any more. I'm going to have a talk with them and make sure they don't do it anymore."

"Sure, Lily." Why was he in the Lucky 38?

"Is he awake? I brought the dog."

He barely glanced up to see Cass coming in, the King's weird cyborg dog at her side. He pulled the blanket around him even though he knew he wasn't shivering from the cold.

"I'm still sleeping," Raul called again.

"You're always sleeping, old man. Why don't you give someone else a turn?"

"There's two beds, you guys."

The dog barked.

"Anyway, glad you're back and not dead that all that. Lily thought the dog'd make you feel better. I tried to tell her you're not a dog person, but..."

"You don't like puppies, pumpkin?"

"Doesn't matter if he does, because I like puppies. Come here, Rex. Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

It was all confusing and distracting and exhausting but not so distracting that he didn't look up at the last figure to appear in the doorway.

"Arcade!" the courier cried. Even with his terrible eyesight it was clear to see his face lighting up with a smile. "You had us all scared, buddy." He took a step into the room and Arcade drove himself as far back into the couch as he could.

"Stay away from me," he whispered, and, when Six started toward him, said louder, "Stay away from me!"

That hushed everyone up. Six stopped.

"I never woulda thought you'd be the one to take out Caesar," he said, the grin plain in his voice. "You're really somethin' else, Cade, you know that?"

He looked around for something to defend himself with and saw nothing. Of course there was nothing.

"And like that, too. You're such a badass! But I wish you'd just kept your head down, it would've saved you a lot of grief." He took another step, holding out his arms, and when Arcade flinched he said, "It's okay, you're safe now, nobody's going to hurt you..."

"You sold me to the damned Legion!" Arcade screamed. It tore his throat raw and he clamped both hands over his mouth and tried to stop shaking, but it was too late for that. The tears had already started coming.

"You did WHAT?" Veronica asked.

"It's not that big a deal," Six told her. "I just needed to get close to Caesar and I thought that the best way to gain his trust was by taking care of his tumor."

"So you SOLD him?"

"It was just for a few days, until Caesar was up and around again." Six turned to Arcade. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I didn't think you'd be very convincing. If I made it look like you thought I was betraying you..."

"Hold up," Cass said.

Veronica stood up, holding one hand to Arcade and the other to Six. "You SOLD him? To the LEGION? And you didn't even WARN him?"

"I was coming back for you. I was coming back for him," he added to Veronica, then again to Arcade: "I had no idea you'd do this, or I would never have... I wouldn't have let them do this to you if I'd known."

"Why the hell are you working with the Legion?" Cass asked. "What happened to working with the NCR?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You don't even like the NCR."

"No, I don't, but I also don't like that you sold one of your friends to the fucking Legion, Six."

"It's not..." Back to Arcade. "You single-handedly took down the most powerful man in the Mojave. You're a hero, Cade. You finally did something that made a difference!"

That took the breath out of Arcade's lungs. For a moment all he could hear was the machinery, the radio, the distant casino machines...

The lump of blankets on the other bed sat up and turned to Six. Raul started shedding blankets.

"Wow, boss," he said. "Wow." He looked over at Arcade, shaking his head. "Es un gilipollas."

Lily, who had been watching all this in silence, spoke up. "Sweetie, you need to go sit in the corner and think about what you did."

"Oh, shut up." Six came closer, shaking a finger at Arcade. "I didn't get you crucified. You did that yourself. And then I bailed you out! You think they would have known where to find you without me?"

Lily put a firm hand on Arcade's shoulder but he barely felt it.

"You bitch and moan about not making a difference when all you do is look for ways to help people, and then when you do actually help them you want to blame it on me." Closer. Arcade's heart was in his throat, which didn't make a whole lot of sense when it was already in pieces, but in his mind he kept thinking, I trusted you, I trusted you. "I don't expect you to think I'm a hero but I damn sure expect you to treat me like a human being."

Two things happened then. The tears that had formed spilled down Arcade's face, and the room rang with the crack of a rifle shot.

Six was screaming, everyone was going for their weapons, guns and melee weapons all pointed at the man in the doorway, and then Six stumbled over, bumped against the nightstand, slid to the floor. He was crying, and clutching at his...

Arcade blinked. His vision must have been playing tricks on him, because it almost looked like he was holding his ass.

They all were looking now, back at the man in the doorway as he put his rifle away.

"What?" Boone asked with a shrug. "He was asking for it."

No one said a word.

"Yeah," Veronica finally said over the courier's shrieks. "You've got a point." She lowered her fists.

"He shot me in the butt!"

"I'll do worse than that if you don't get the hell out of here," Boone told him.

"You can't do this to me! I'm the reason Caesar is dead. I'm the reason the Legion is falling apart. I was the one who got him into the Fort! Jesus christ, guys, aren't you going to do something?"

Cass tapped her chin for a moment.

"I can also shoot you in the ass," she finally said.

Six made a strangled gasping noise. "Fine. Jesus. Come on, Raul."

The ghoul just laughed.

"I can't believe you." Six limped to the door. "You all ought to be ashamed. I'm the only reason you're here right now. I'm..."

Rex gave an extremely aggressive bark, and the courier took his ass in both hands and ran for the elevator.

"It's alright, pumpkin," Lily said, sitting down beside Arcade and pulling him into a hug. "Grandma's not going to let anybody hurt you anymore."

"Yeah." Veronica came over to pat him on the shoulder. "If he tries to come back, I have the best idea. I'm gonna punch him."

The elevator dinged, signalling it had reached the ground floor. Rex growled at it, then trotted over and sat at Arcade's feet. He settled his chin onto Arcade's knees and gave his hands a lick.

"I can't believe he..." Veronica shook her head. "Well, I already said that. But I also can't believe you assassinated Caesar by yourself."

Lily was warm and gentle and the sound of her usual heavy breathing managed to calm him a bit. "I didn't assassinate him."

"You definitely assassinated him." Boone took a seat near the door.

"I didn't..." Arcade turned his face against Lily's shoulder. "I should never have left the Followers."

"There's an idea," Veronica said. "I get the idea Mr. House isn't going to be very happy about any of this. Before the securitrons come evict us, we should go to the Followers."

Stupid, Arcade thought to himself. Stupid soft heart. Stupid fool Arcade.

"It's got to be better than the wasteland," Raul said. "They take ghouls, right?"

Stupid, trusting idiot fool who...

"Let's get packed, pumpkin. Do you want Grandma to help you?"

Idiot, he thought again, but quieter this time. "Sure, Lily. I'd like that."

One time back in the NCR Arcade fell in love with a bartender who told him he wore his heart on his sleeve and some people would take advantage of him because of it. This was true. Something else was also true: he wore his heart on his sleeve and some people would love him for it.


End file.
